


they call it winter

by quietmoon



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2020-06-30 14:32:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19855174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietmoon/pseuds/quietmoon
Summary: Just the quiet chill of the air outside and a sky that stays dark well into the dawn, and you.





	they call it winter

**Author's Note:**

> _cross-posted from[ff.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11666556/1/they-call-it-winter)_
> 
> happy holidays to the lonely. xoxo

"Merry Christmas."

Erza jumps, glancing up from the bills she was counting to peer at the stranger. She just closed up shop moments ago. Did she forget to turn the sign to 'closed'? But, no, she can see 'open' reflecting back at her in the dim light of the bar.

"Sorry." She turns to look him straight on. "We just closed." He stares at her, brow furrowed. It takes her a second to realise her mistake. "B-But thank you. And you, too. Merry Christmas."

He's got a bold tattoo that stands out against his skin even through the cold winter flush. It crinkles as he smiles, and his whole demeanour transforms. "Thank you," he murmurs to her, voice warm as he turns away. "Have a nice night."

She nods a little breathlessly. Fingers loose around the forgotten money, she watches him as he walks back through the little maze of chairs and tables. His dark coat is worn — actually, it's completely frayed, dirty and old — and the soft beanie covering his hair looks just as tatty. She can guess from what she sees along with his lonely appearance at a minute past midnight on Christmas Eve that he has no home to go back to; just the quiet chill of the air outside and a sky that stays dark well into the dawn.

"Wait!" she calls after him before she can stop herself. His hand rests on the door as he turns back to her, face a question mark. "I'll get you a hot chocolate. It's freezing tonight. Sit there."

He silently watches from his seat by the door, hiding his thoughts behind polite bewilderment, as she flits around with a mug, grabbing the powder, heating the milk. She doesn't look up at him again. She has no idea why but she's sure that if she were to meet his eye, she'd do something unbearable like blush.

It's only when Erza's set the mug down across from him that he initiates a conversation. "I would ask why, but…" He trails off and when she looks back, he's smiling in a way that's bittersweet and so, so genuine.

She laughs quietly at his grimace, and his eyes light up at the sound. "Call it a Christmas present."

"Thank you," he says again.

She nods.

He catches her hesitation and gestures encouragingly to the chair across from him. "Please."

"I was just locking up—"

"A few minutes won't get put you too far behind, I hope." His smile widens into a charming grin as he tilts his head. "Hmm?"

"I—" She glances back at the counter again, at the cleared-up surfaces and small pile of money she's already counted twice, at where her jacket hangs with pockets full of keys to empty homes, and slips into the seat like it wasn't worth pausing over at all. "All right. For a few minutes."

He doesn't ask her why she's working tonight. She doesn't ask him anything at all, but she does laugh at his self-deprecating jokes and when he offers her a sip of his drink, she finds she likes how he distractedly eyes the small line of cream on her lips before she licks it away.

And later, when a few minutes have spanned into forty, and he offers to return the favour with a tour of a quiet city lit by decorations and stars, it would be a lie to say Erza isn't hiding a smile in her palm as she nods. It would be a lie to say she was right when she expected this year's end to be the worst of her life. It's a lie to say she's as lonely as she thought she wanted to be.

And it's the truth that the heat between her fingers when he takes her hand and pulls her forward to the beautiful city square, the heat in her cheeks as she reflects his quiet bittersweet smile, the heat in her chest when she laughs as he slips around clumsily on the ice, is as welcome in the winter of her life as he is.

The night passes muted and cold, and they don't talk about each other — but they talk, and they talk, and they look up at the lights, and they walk, and the air she shares with him is alight with flames.


End file.
